Haunted
by Little.Miss.Xanda
Summary: Dreams, reality, who could say which one was which. Shouldn't reality be the one where you felt alive? Where your blood rushed through you in a wave of heat and passion? Shouldn't that be your reality even though you knew you were merely dreaming? The most heartbreaking thing he had ever had to do was to wake up.


**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling. No money is being made.

 **Written for the Quidditch League – Season 4 Fanfiction Competition – Round 13**

 **Round 13 – Real Randomness**

As the regular rounds for the fourth season draw to a close, we want to pay tribute to the wonderful challenges this competition has brought to us so far. And in order to do that we have assigned every single one of you a different prompt – each of which has been taken from a previous season and round of QL.

 **Wasps Chaser 2:** S3R11 / Top of the Pops - My Heart Will Go On - Celine Dion (Choose one lyric or line to base your fic upon)

 **Chosen Lyric** : Every night in my dreams I see you, I feel you

 **Additional Prompts:**

2.(quote) 'I have a cunning plan.' - Baldrick, Blackadder

3.(word) passion

5.(song) 'Mad World' by Gary Jules

 **Chaser 2 for the Wimbourne Wasps**

* * *

 **Haunted**

He had his eyes open, he was sure, and yet, the only thing that greeted him was the complete absence of light. He knew for a fact that he had his hand right in front of his face, but even so, he couldn't see it. There was nothing around him but utter darkness.

"Hello?"

He knew, in some subconscious part of his mind, that his voice should have echoed in such an apparent large space; however, it didn't. He knew he had spoken, and he knew he wasn't deaf or mute, but even so, the sound hadn't traveled through the immense space around him.

He felt something brush against him, and he jumped. Or he would have, if his feet had been on anything that could have resembled solid ground. He looked around frantically, but the only thing he could see was that endless darkness.

He felt something against his neck.

His eyes snapped open.

He breathed hard, his heart threatening to jump out of his chest.

"Harry?"

He glanced to the side, seeing Ginny looking at him with sleep-clouded eyes.

"It's nothing," he murmured, looking away from her.

He saw her nodding from the corner of his eye, and she leaned back down, turning away from him. His fists clenched at his side. Just a few months ago, him waking up in the middle of the night would have had everyone in a panic, wondering if it was Voldemort. Now though, Voldemort was dead, and things were just so _normal_. How could they act this way? How could they pretend that everything was fine? No, not pretend. Harry could see that they weren't pretending at all. They were all too normal. It was as if they wanted to completely forget what had happened only a few months back. The bodies were buried, and with them the haunting memories that had been gained during that year.

He glanced at his girlfriend, sleeping so peacefully, and he couldn't help but feel resentment towards her. It was as if a stranger was wearing Ginny's face. There was no burning passion in her gaze, no heat in her words, nothing. She was so lifeless, and so utterly, heartbreakingly _normal_.

Ginny wasn't the only one either. Ron and Hermione were so alien to him now that he barely recognized them when they spent time together.

Maybe it was his fault, though. He couldn't help but feel like a freak when he was with them. Had he been the only one that had been affected by what they had gone through? Was he the only one unable to forget?

He laid back down, closing his eyes and praying that nothing would haunt his dreams.

* * *

He was back to that place. That void. He resisted the urge to look around, knowing that he would see nothing.

Harry tensed when he felt something brush against him. It was feather-light, barely grazing him.

"Who are you?" he asked, even though his voice didn't spread in the void. He knew that whoever it was, they would be able to hear him.

He swiftly turned around when he felt something behind him, only to wake up in his bed.

* * *

Harry smiled—though it felt more like a grimace—as Mrs. Weasley ushered him into the kitchen, chattering at him about this and that. He didn't think he had ever felt so exhausted. He loved these people, they were family, but he didn't feel like he belonged at all. Couldn't they see he wasn't fine? They looked right through him, as if he wasn't even there.

No. Harry shook his head. He was being unfair. They cared, and he knew they did. They were just busy with their own lives, trying to pretend that they were alright, and everything was as it should be.

No. Harry shook his head. He was being unfair, again. They weren't pretending. They were fine.

He ignored the cracks in the masks they wore. The strained smiles that graced their lips sometimes, the overwhelming sadness that he glimpsed in their eyes, and the tears they quickly swept away.

* * *

Again, there was darkness.

He was asleep, he knew, but this void, this darkness, felt more real than anything he would experience when he was awake.

And then, there it was. The soft, delicate touch. He swore that this time, he could feel fingertips on his cheek.

His breath rattled in his chest, and it took every shred of control he had not to reach out.

"Please." He closed his eyes; not even Voldemort had reduced him to begging.

The barely there touch became more solid, and he counted five long, slender fingers against his cheek.

* * *

"What?" Harry was hoping that he had heard it wrong.

"We should go back to Hogwarts," Hermione repeated.

"Why?" He couldn't believe that Ron, of all people, was nodding along with Hermione.

"Why?" Hermione's brow furrowed. "What do you mean, why? Because it's what must be done. We have to finish school, and get our NEWTs. You'll need them when you apply to be an auror."

Harry blinked at the stranger wearing his best friend's face. "So, that's it?" he murmured. "We fight a war. We kill, we _die_ , and now, we go back to being students and taking exams?" Hermione and Ron were leaning away from him slightly, and he shook his head. "This is it, then? After everything, we go back to how everything was?"

"Harry…"

"No." Harry got up from his seat. "No," he repeated, "I get it. It's the way things are, right? Why move forward when you can walk in circles? It's much more comfortable to go through what you're familiar with instead of braving new paths."

Harry smiled at his friends—even though it felt as if his lips were doing it wrong—and went back to Grimmauld Place, knowing that no one would follow him there.

* * *

Harry closed his eyes as he felt arms wrap around him.

"Every night in my dreams, I feel you," he murmured, even though he could have shouted and no sound would have been heard. "I wish I could see you."

The arms around him tightened, and then, slowly, a small speck of light could be seen, growing a few feet away from them. It was nowhere near enough to light up the place, but it was enough to see the contour of the arms that were wrapped around him—the male arms wrapped around him. Somehow, Harry wasn't as surprised as he should have been when he discovered that his dream companion was male.

"I know I'm sleeping, I know you're a dream, but why do you feel more real than anything, _anyone_ , else?"

The last thing Harry felt before waking were soft lips against his neck.

* * *

Harry pulled away when Ginny leaned in for a kiss, laying a chaste kiss on her forehead instead. She pouted up at him, and Harry had to look away. Why did he feel as if he were a cheating bastard?

They were dreams. Only dreams.

And why did that thought break his heart?

* * *

The darkness wasn't as overwhelming as it used to be. It was still dark, but there was a soft light coming from somewhere.

Arms wrapped around him once again, and lips were on his neck before he could blink. His breath caught in his throat, and part of him hated himself when he melted into the embrace.

The mouth on his neck traveled up, brushing against his ear, and Harry shuddered at the warm breath he could feel against his skin.

"You died."

Harry's eyes snapped open, the haunting voice still rattling around in his head.

* * *

"Why can't I stay over?" Ginny glared at him, and Harry had to contain a sigh.

"It isn't proper, Ginny, and you know that. Your mother doesn't really like it." He couldn't tell her that he felt as if he were betraying someone when she slept beside him, and that he dreamed of dark places and soft lips that didn't belong to her. What did it say about him, when he felt like he was betraying his dream companion instead of his girlfriend?

Ginny narrowed her eyes, and Harry knew she was itching to hex him. He sighed, preparing himself for an argument he didn't want to have.

The only thing he wanted was to go back to sleep.

* * *

Harry took a shuddering breath, head falling back against the shoulder of his companion. He moaned as his companion lavished his neck with soft kisses and gentle nips.

He reached back, his hand tangling in long, silky locks for the first time.

He felt those large, slender hands rove over his body, bringing him to the edge faster than he thought possible.

"Please," he begged, burrowing deeper into the body behind him. "It feels like I'm dying." Please, he just needed a little more.

There was a low, soft growl, the touches becoming harder, faster.

"You already died."

Harry woke with a start, lingering touches ghosting over his skin, and a deep, dark voice echoing in his mind.

* * *

Harry looked away from Ginny, even though he could feel her hurt and confusion pouring out of her in waves. He wanted to assure her, to tell her it wasn't her fault, but he couldn't bring himself to. What could he say? That he wanted nothing but the hard, possessive touches of his dream companion? That he wanted the soft, gentle lips that mapped his skin in his dreams? That the dreams in which he felt like he was dying where the best he had ever had?

He slipped off the bed, not even giving Ginny a backwards glance.

He wished he could sleep forever.

* * *

Harry moaned, arching into the body above him. His lips were claimed brutally, but Harry willingly gave himself over to the pleasure that was filling ever pore of his body.

"Yes," he moaned, "please!"

His companion complied, taking him deeper, making him come undone.

* * *

Harry touched his smarting cheek, his eyes narrowing on the redhead in front of him.

"Who is she?" Ginny spat, her eyes burning for the first time in what felt like years. Still, that fire was nothing more than a weak ember compared to the overwhelming passion he could feel from his dream companion. He was Fiendfyre, and Ginny a feeble Incendio. There was no comparison between the two, and if he was to get burned, then he preferred to be swallowed by Fiendfyre.

"There is no she." He wasn't lying. There was no she. His dream companion was most definitely male. He might not have been able to see him yet, but there was no doubt he was a male.

Ginny bit her bottom lip, tears gathering in her eyes. She turned around and left. Maybe that was for the best. Now, he could go back to sleep.

* * *

The place was brighter, his dream lover more clearly visible. So clear in fact, that Harry could see a tiny frown in his expression.

"What?" Harry murmured, lips brushing against those above him.

"It is getting brighter here. It should not happen."

Harry's eyes twinkled, a smile stretching his lips. "I have a cunning plan."

"Oh?"

Harry could see an eyebrow rising, and it left him giddy.

"I'm going to sleep forever."

His lover's eyes widened slightly, then those soft lips stretched into a smile before they descended on his own.

* * *

Harry smiled as the crystal vial rolled from his slack fingers.

In front of him was a tall man, eyes as dark as the night sky, and hair just as dark. He was pale, though not sickly so. It was as if his skin simply lacked pigment.

Slowly, Harry took a step forward, hand reaching out. His shoulders slumped in relief when his lover reached out and took his hand.

"Death," Harry sighed, leaning into the tall body.

Death leaned down, kissing his forehead gently, lips tugging upward into a gentle smile.

"You were mine the first time you died, Master. Now, I will never let you go."

* * *

 **A.N.:** Thank you to agentmoppet and 3cheersforidiots for betaing. You guys are amazing. The best teammates a person can ask for :D


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